I know I’ve been quite inactive in this blogging affair
since last week. My necromantic evocations and self-mutilation rites have kept
my hands awfully busy (and bloody). Be it as it may, today I bring you the
latest single from Vanhelga, which is set to feature on their third full length,
Längtan, whose release is scheduled
for the 28th of April. I’ve mentioned in previous posts how saturated
the whole “DSBM” thing currently is, with literally thousands of bands all
around the globe releasing demos and LP’s on a monthly basis, mimicking uncritically
the formulae established by their notorious predecessors, without contributing
with anything new to the genre. Actually, truth be told, they didn’t even had
to do anything outlandishly original; they simply had to compose something remotely
able of transmitting any sort of sentiment other than boredom. Anyhow, in every
ten bands or so within this musical niche there’s one or two which are worthwhile
checking out. Vanhelga definitely belong to the latter. It’s difficult not to
be reminded of Lifelover when listening to their despondently sick stuff. I’ll
be looking forward for their forthcoming opus, which I expect to be at least as
good as the preceding Höst, which you
can also hear and buy at their Bandcamp.
Fresh from the upcoming release of Rebirths, an album set to re-release some thisquietarmy songs, that have been re-recorded with a new coat of varnish. Fantastic stuff that Î couldn't recommend enough, this release shouldn't be high up there in the wishlist for those already acquainted with the band, thought it might prove a worthy listen for those unfamiliar with the band and concept.
Slated to release on April the 16th, here is the costumary bandcamp link:
La Blogothèque should not be a stranger to anyone who wanders the web looking for good music, but for those who aren't aware it is a great source for interesting work done by interesting artists in interesting settings. This snippet format, where musicians play select songs in unconventional places and/or with a special connection to a public - this Beirut concert springs to mind - is usually successful in conveying a situated perspective on music-making, which comes across both as an experience that is shared, collectively, and as something we are all - both artists and listeners - a part of. It takes us there, and I find myself both appreciating the music and its context, realizing that such performances are unique - as is every single one of them - while the underlying resonance, a human experience, is the glue that draws and binds all of this specificity.
This is particularly evident in Matana Roberts's bit in And We Made The Room Shine (AWMTRS), a "post-rockumentary" (as they claim it to be at their facebook page) done by La Blogothèque with Constellation artists in a tour around Vienna. Her role here as a musician and performer is evidently reliant on the public, on communication and the musicality that is in everyone - a chorus that feed into her music-playing. This is of course nothing unheard of, as Gospel choirs spring to mind immediatly during her performance, the idea of collective singing being an integral part of traditional music all around the world; but the artifice of contemporary performance does have a history of forgetting that there's no concert without a public, no message without a dialogue.
Which is not to say that every musician should do what she does, of course. In fact, no other artist in AWMTRS is going down that route. But from the street concert of Do Make Say Think to Elfin Saddle's water glass music, or Hangedup's steel pipe drums, there's a sense of placement that makes apparent both the intention of La Blogothèque situated music films and the artists' involvement with the surrounding environment. A stark contrast with Mike Moya and Eric Chenaux's solitary performances, but again these were contextualized: Eric Chenaux is at the stage playing for an empty audience, Mike Moya playing at what looks like an abandoned hall or basement; in both, the context relating to the introspective nature of the music being played.
All the while, AWMTRS is pulling it off through wordless movement. If anything, therein lies its flaw - that throughout the journey, there's always an eerie sense that we are mere spectators, voyeurs into the brilliant lives of these artists and the fortunate people that may experience their performance. This may be because even though it's the documentary's intention to bring us into the experience, the fact is that, well, we're not there. So I'm torn between the ambitious representation in AWMTRS and the simpler, more straight-to-the-point structure of, say, Blood, Sweat and Vynil. They both share the "band showcase" type of cadence - though AWMTRS is obviously more focused on the concerts themselves, while BSV is more interested in fan service - and they both seem to make a point of singling out the connection between artist and context as a driving force for the respective bands/musicians. But in BSV that is an explicit argument, while in AWMTRS it comes through interpretation and oftenly it becomes unclear whether it wants to go through with it, or whether that was its intention to begin with. It may just as well be the case that I'm reading into a non-intentional message that squeezed out between the lines.
The idea that AWMTRS "loses itself" by burying too deep on its own representation is an extremely subjective one and certainly not any reason to frown on the film itself, though. Taken at face value, you have an assortment of great artists pulling great performance. The filming is great and envelopping enough; the whole thing is marvellous work.
I highly recommend you spend the 45 minutes of your time as I'm sure anyone can enjoy the experience. The situated performance of music is something I believe needs much more thought and effort by us, or we stand to lose ourselves in the rattle of everyday consumerism. For that alone, I appreciate the very intention behind AWMTRS. The fact that the artists are great and the filming/setting is well thought out, makes this an excellent film.
Lately, I’ve been listening quite often to Alastor’s LP From the Hellish Abyss,
released last year by Hoth Records. Alastor is one of the side-projects of JA,
the mastermind behind Decayed, one of the most influential black metal bands hailing
from Portugal. We can easily relate Alastor with Decayed, mainly through the
borrowings from first-wave black metal bands and good ol’ times rock’n’roll, the latter being the primal root whence all heavy music rose, notwithstanding the unawareness
of this fact by many in the scene nowadays. We’re streaming here From the Hellish Abyss, but Alastor's entire
discography is available for listening and download at their Bandcamp.
We continue roaming through the lightless paths of French
black metal, and bring to you an advance track from Sühnopfer’s second opus “Offertoire”, whose release is scheduled for this month. In contrast with the more degenerate breed of
black metal evoked by his fellow countrymen previously appraised here in The Brainlesser, Ardraos’ solo project sports a melodic brand of metal noire, striking us with a certain
epic ambience. The song is further enriched by the contribution of Peste Noire’s
infamous Famine. Check it out below.
